


Let Them Eat Cake

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6169303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony pays Ducky a visit on a Sunday afternoon and ... well, they chat and have tea - eventually!<br/>In honour of Mothering Sunday in the UK tomorrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Them Eat Cake

 

"Bang, bang!"

Ducky jerked awake as he heard the door knocker banging against the door. He had nodded off in his armchair after a solitary Sunday lunch and he looked round in bewilderment. Ducky hadn't quite got used to living in the Georgetown brownstone he had moved into after his mother's death and, for a moment or two, he couldn't remember where he was. Recollection flooded back and he breathed his customary sigh of relief; the fear of following his mother in succumbing to Alzheimer's disease was always lurking at the back of his mind.

He stood up and walked towards the front door but paused to look through the French window on to the small yard where he had planted daffodils, tulips and snowdrops. He smiled at the sight and then hurried on to find out who his visitor was.

"Anthony," he said in surprise when he saw Tony DiNozzo standing at the door, "what brings you here on this lovely afternoon?" Ducky wondered if he had fallen short of his usual standards of courtesy by showing his shock but, he reasoned to himself, it was unusual for Tony to visit the 'Mallard residence'. He and Tony got on well enough but didn't normally seek each other out when work was over.

Tony seemed to be aware of the oddity of his visit so didn't seem surprised at Ducky's reaction but instead shuffled slightly awkwardly on the doorstep.

"Come in, come in, dear boy," said Ducky, "while it is, as I said, a lovely sunny afternoon, Spring has not yet quite sprung and the wind is rather cold. Is all well? No crisis unfurling at the Navy Yard? No dastardly foes awaiting apprehension?"

"No, Ducky," said Tony stepping gratefully into the warmth of Ducky's house, "Well, there probably is. You know, a crisis looming and those dastardly foes are likely plotting nefarious deeds but they haven't shown up on Gibbs' radar yet."

Ducky nodded, appreciative of Tony's efforts to use multi-syllable words.

"Let me take your coat, then. I assume you are staying?"

"If that's OK, Ducky," said Tony who put a package on the floor before wriggling out of his winter overcoat, removing the scarf Abby had knitted him for Christmas, the sensible thermal gloves Gibbs had given him and the woolly hat bestowed on him by McGee and which Tony suspected had been bought at a Webelos rummage sale. Ducky wondered if Tony was usually this warmly wrapped up or had taken the precaution of wearing his team's gifts to avoid a potential scolding from the ever vigilant doctor.

"And I'm wearing those Scottish lambs wool socks you gave me," said Tony, confirming Ducky's suspicions.

"Splendid," said Ducky, "they were knitted by my cousin Morag. Of course, she doesn't see as well as she used to and her fingers are a bit arthritic but I think they were a fine effort for a woman of her age. I don't think the holes are in crucial positions."

"They're fine," lied Tony resisting the impulse to ask if Morag suffered from colour blindness in addition to her other afflictions but thinking that orange and magenta might have some particular Scottish significance.

"Now, Anthony, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Not, of course, that you need a  _reason_  to visit. I am always more than happy to welcome my co-workers to my humble abode. It's just that I don't think I have welcomed you to  _this_ humble abode. And what is it that you are holding so carefully there?"

Tony looked a bit embarrassed, "Well," he said awkwardly, "do you remember bringing that cake into work? About this time last year? The Simnel cake?"

Flashback

" _Good morning, my hardworking co-workers," said Ducky as he entered the squad room one Monday morning._

" _Morning, Ducky," said McGee cheerfully, having enjoyed a satisfying weekend teaching wood craft to his Webelos._

" _And good morning to you, Ducky," said Ziva who had also enjoyed her weekend learning the basics of a new, and lethal, martial art._

" _Yeah, what they said," said Tony morosely as he sat slumped in his chair._

" _What's the matter, Tony?" asked Tim, "Mindy-Lou stand you up?"_

" _Melissa-Sue," corrected Tony, "and no, she didn't stand me up. We had a very enjoyable weekend, getting to know each other."_

" _Then why are you not in a more flipper mood?" asked Ziva._

_It was unusual for the team to be at a loss with Ziva's idioms but this was a new one and they looked puzzled for a few moments as they tried to unravel what she was saying._

" _Chipper!" said Tim triumphantly, "Chipper, I think you mean chipper, Ziva. And a good point," he hurried on as he encountered her glare, "why aren't you cheerful today, Tony?"_

" _Because the weekend is over, McGenius," said Tony "two days wasn't nearly long enough to explore Melissa's depths. Why …"_

_Ducky intervened hastily, to everyone's relief, before Tony could describe Melissa-Sue's hidden depths in graphic detail, "Well, you'll be pleased to know that I've brought you all a piece of Simnel cake which will fortify you for the labours of the week ahead."_

_He placed a package on each desk. Tony picked his up and sniffed at it cautiously, "smells like fruit cake," he said, "and something else I can't …"_

" _Ah," said Ducky, getting ready to explain, "it's …"_

" _Gear up," said Gibbs, sweeping into the squad room, "that missing petty officer's been sighted at the Tidal Basin."_

" _What a pity it's too early for you to see the cherry blossom," observed Ducky, "ah well, let me know if you need my assistance," and he ambled off a little forlornly. Tony gazed after him and then prudently stowed his cake into his backpack before hurrying off after Gibbs._

Present day.

"Yes," said Ducky, "I remember. I also remember that it was not a very nice Simnel cake. A touch dry, I fear. But what makes you think of that today?"

"Well," said Tony, "when I got round to eating it … when Gibbs finally let us stop working …"

"Indeed," said Ducky sympathetically, "I fear Jethro has no regard for HR directives about proper breaks for rest and hydration. I have remonstrated with him most forcefully over the years but without success so I have to admit that I have ceased to admonish him on the matter. No doubt you will be surprised to learn that I do sometimes realise that my words can have no effect and so cease to use them. My breath is, after all, precious and not to be wasted. Oh my," he paused as he gazed at Tony, "I suspect you would wish me not to be wasting my breath at the moment as I so rudely interrupted you. Pray continue."

Tony took a moment to recall what he had been saying. Over the years he had become accustomed to letting his attention wander a little when Ducky went off on one of his tangents although he was usually paying enough heed to get the drift of what was being said.

"Right," said Tony, "so, when I ate my piece of cake, it reminded me of something but I couldn't think what."

"Indeed?" said Ducky, "how interesting. I am aware, of course, of the power of smells to bring back memories but I haven't experienced it quite so much with taste. I must confess I am somewhat surprised that you had tasted it before, Anthony, it is less common in the United States than in the United Kingdom."

"I had to google Simnel cake in the end," confessed Tony.

"My word," said Ducky, "Timothy will be impressed. Perhaps you should not let him know. He may feel his status as the computer …"

"Geek," supplied Tony.

"Genius," preferred Ducky, "his computer genius status may be at risk if he learns that you use google."

For a moment Tony looked as if he was regretting his visit but he continued, "So I looked up Simnel cake and found out that it's eaten in the UK around Easter and for Mothering Sunday."

"Which is …" began Ducky, unable to resist the opportunity to impart knowledge.

"On the fourth Sunday in Lent," said Tony quickly, determined to keep control of the conversation, "unlike Mother's Day in the United States which is …"

"Second Sunday in May," said Ducky, equally determined to keep talking. Then he wondered if he was neglecting his duties as a host and graciously signalled Tony to continue.

"And then I remembered when I'd eaten it," said Tony, "when I was six, my mom took me to visit her family in England one Spring. We had Mothering Sunday while we were there and at tea time there was this Simnel cake as the centre piece."

Ducky was still a bit puzzled, "I hope it was a happy memory, Anthony."

"We went to church in the morning," went on Tony. Ducky wondered if the Simnel cake had brought back a bad memory of a boring hour in church for a six year old. "They gave us bunches of daffodils to give our moms," resumed Tony, "it was so cool. It was the first time I gave my Mom a present. I mean, I know I didn't buy it, or make it or anything but she looked as if she was going to cry when I gave her this little bunch of flowers. And I'd completely forgotten all about it until you brought in that cake. So, thank you, Ducky."

"You are entirely welcome, dear boy," said Ducky finding himself unexpectedly moved by the picture of a small Tony giving his mother a posy of daffodils.

"And it made me think," said Tony, "that perhaps, as you're British, that you and your mom had kept the Brits' Mothering Sunday rather than the American one. And that perhaps you'd been remembering your mom when you brought that cake in."

"That's why you're a good investigator," said Ducky, "yes, you're right. Mother and I always kept the tradition of Mothering Sunday three Sundays before Easter. Last year was the first year after Mother died and I felt the loss rather more keenly than I had anticipated, hence my rather poor attempt at replicating it."

"I'm sorry we weren't more appreciative," said Tony.

"Force of Gibbs, Anthony, force of Gibbs," sighed Ducky, "not to be resisted. And did the cake bring back any more memories?"

"I remember going back to church the next Sunday and being really cross that I didn't get any flowers. I thought I'd been conned!"

Ducky laughed, "I remember being given daffodils in church on Mothering Sundays and delivering them very proudly to Mother. I like to think that's why they were her favourite flower. I have always made sure to grow some, they are such _cheerful_  flowers."

Ducky lapsed into an uncharacteristic silence before saying, "I have been remiss, Anthony, I haven't offered you any refreshment. I beg you not to tell Jethro. After my strictures to him on the benefits of feeding and hydration I should not have been so lax in offering them to you."

Tony blinked in the face of this and tried to think how he should reply. Fortunately, he didn't need to as Ducky swept on,

"Would you like a cup of tea, Anthony? Or I have some elderflower cordial which you might enjoy. And perhaps something to eat?"

"Ah, sure," said Tony recovering, "what do you think goes well with Simnel cake?"

"Oh dear," said Ducky despondently, "I fear I don't have any Simnel cake to offer you, my boy. After last year's poor effort I rather lost heart."

"That's all right, Ducky," said Tony, "I've brought some myself."

"Good lord," said Ducky, "er … I didn't think you baked, Anthony?"

Tony shuddered, "I don't! No, I thought Mothering Sunday should be marked in some way so I did some research."

"Did your father bake it for you?" asked Ducky, looking around almost as if he expected Mr DiNozzo Snr to be there.

Tony shuddered again, "No! Who knows when it would have arrived if Senior had been involved."

"Then who? Ziva likes to cook. Or perhaps Abby? But it seems unlikely that she would have been able to keep it a secret. But she might have asked her nuns to produce the confection, nuns are, after all, multi-talented. Forgive me, Anthony, I am running on in my excitement and I am sure you are waiting to tell me where you procured this delight. I cannot imagine …"

"I wrote my cousin Crispian," said Tony, "and asked if he had the recipe that Mrs Pargeter, the Paddington housekeeper, would have used."

"You wrote to your cousin Crispian?" said Ducky, "the cousin who insisted you repay that loan from your uncle Clive?"

"It was worth it," insisted Tony, "I remembered it as being a really good cake."

"Thank you," said Ducky, "and did your cousin 'come up with the goods'"?

"Yes, he did," said Tony, "perhaps he's not all bad after all."

"And did he send a cake all the way from England?" marvelled Ducky.

"No, I don't think he's mellowed that much. Not sure it would have got through customs anyway. No, but he sent Mrs Pargeter's recipe. So then I had to find someone to bake it for me."

"Indeed," said Ducky, briefly for once.

"But I didn't have to look far," said Tony proudly.

"So it was Ziva after all! Or possibly Jethro? I am sure he could do almost anything he put his mind to. As indeed, I wager you could too, Anthony."

"No, not Ziva, although I bet she would have been up for the possibility of baking a cake if it was somewhere to hide an offensive weapon."

"Then who?" asked Ducky.

"Gloria," said Tony.

"Gloria?" asked Ducky.

"My neighbour Gloria. Gloria Gordon, baker extraordinaire."

"Of course," said Ducky. The MCRT all knew, and approved of, the culinary marvel who was Tony's neighbour and supplier of delicious baked goods. "Mrs Gordon! And how is the redoubtable lady?"

"Redoubtable as ever," said Tony, "and at the top of her game. She rose to the Simnel challenge. She said she didn't really like making fruit cake but the challenge of the marzipan in the middle and on the top, and then toasting it till it went brown … well, that was right up her street."

"May I see?" said Ducky eagerly.

Tony nodded and unwrapped the package to reveal a cake tin. He took the lid off and Ducky leaned forward to gaze on a Simnel cake decorated with eleven little balls of marzipan.

"A masterpiece," breathed Ducky. He looked at it with rapt attention and then said, "Now, shall we see if it tastes as good as it looks?"

Tony nodded, feeling that it had taken rather longer than even he had expected to get to eating. In fact, it still took some time to get to the tea table. The Crown Derby china was brought out of retirement and laid out on the exquisite Irish linen tablecloth edged with the broderie anglaise which Mrs Mallard had worked as part of her trousseau many years before. Ducky had also to give careful consideration as to the best type of tea to drink with Gloria's masterpiece and then spend the appropriate length of time to brew it properly. Finally all was ready and Ducky ceremonially placed the cake on the cake stand and he formally offered a large knife to Tony. Tony was used to responsibility in his work, had bravely faced down desperate villains and he coped with an irascible boss on a daily basis but this, he felt, was too much.

"No, no, Ducky," he insisted, "you do it."

Ducky bowed in acknowledgement of the honour, briefly closed his eyes and then opened them to focus on the cake with a concentration similar to that which he showed when preparing to make the first incision on a body in autopsy. Tony held his breath and then released it as Ducky cut down gently but firmly into the cake.

Silence reigned as they ate the cake. It was indeed a tour de force: moist and fruity with squidgy marzipan adding the right note of additional sweetness and it brought back memories of happy times with their mothers for both Tony and Ducky.

"Thank you, Anthony," said Ducky as he patted his mouth clean with a linen napkin, "I must confess that I was feeling somewhat melancholy today as I remembered past Mothering Sundays. People who only knew Mother in her later years may have thought that she was rather a tiresome person and perhaps a burden to me. But I remember a woman of fire and passion and of great kindness and care. She didn't come to live with me until her seventies, you know, and she was a wonderful companion. My house was just somewhere to live until she came and made it into a home. Even if she did bring those blasted corgis with her!"

"Ducky …," said Tony, not knowing what to say.

"No need to say anything, dear boy," said Ducky, "your deeds today have been more than enough. This has been a splendid way to remember a unique and special woman. Thank you!"

Ducky and Tony gently knocked their cups together in a toast.

"Now," said Ducky, "I wonder if you would introduce me to Gloria … Mrs Gordon, one day. A woman who understands fruit cake as she does is someone I would  _very_  much like to meet."

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you haven't realised by now, Mothering Sunday is on the fourth Sunday of Lent (aka Refreshment Sunday) in the UK and flowers are often distributed at church services on that day … often daffodils as they are probably the cheapest and most widely available.   
> Simnel cake is associated with Mothering Sunday and Easter – it's a fruit cake with a layer of marzipan in the middle, another on top and decorated with eleven marzipan balls (one for each of the apostles, minus Judas) … and I like it very much.


End file.
